


Dead Men Tell Tall Tales

by Lepord257



Series: Dead Men verse [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Merc!Wash AU, hes on the tartarus and the mercs haven't actually shown up yet, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 10:51:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17579477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lepord257/pseuds/Lepord257
Summary: Ten years. Ten fucking years and their MO hasn't changed. Wash wonders idly how they'd known to leave. Where they went. Why they waited so long to track down Price. If they knew he was here. If they knew he’d survived.After Freelancer, after Epsilon, after the Meta, after Sidewinder, Agent Washington is left in the snow. On a prison ship in the ass-end of nowhere, he sees a familiar face.





	Dead Men Tell Tall Tales

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on my phone at midnight but like historically speaking that hasn't been a detriment to my writing skills as much as my "would anyone other than my friends give a singular shit about this story" evaluation skills. So I have no shame and am throwing this oc-centric au of an au into the void before finishing a single scene of the au it's an au for. Enjoy?

Wash sees Colorado before Colorado sees him. He doesn't recognize him at first, isn't looking for him, just surveying the Tartarus' sorry excuse for a prison yard for an empty corner to seclude himself in. That's his intention at least.   
  
In practice, he quickly abandons his plans of brooding in a corner in favor of staring open-mouthed at the dead man pacing on a bolted down, metal table regaling the rest of the yard with what Wash recognizes as the story of the infamous pavilion mission.   
  
"So there I was, edge of the atmosphere, guards swarming up the tower, no gun, and a mystery pod the size of a ten year old."   
  
Toddler. 2.6783 feet by 1.52. The numbers are burned into his mind, along with a ranch house in Texas and the admin codes for the mission logs.   
  
"Now I've got a way down, but it makes me a target and my partner lost comms three minutes back and can't tell me no, so I back up to the railing-"   
  
Colorado sees him. He knows he does. The dead man stops short, eyes wide, then grins his biggest grin.    
  
"-and open the pod," he finishes, voice low, but still projecting. He'd learned that in highschool. He’d never talked about it, but Wash knows anyway. Wash knows a lot of things he shouldn’t.   
  
(Gabrielle Waters, 25 at recruitment, attended five leadership seminars, four years of highschool theater, missing presumed dead since before the MOI went down, sole survivor, recklessness possibly indicative of a deathwish, hand to hand score far below standard devia-)   
  
Wash tunes out the story; he knows what comes next. And he knows what this is for. Instead, he scans the edges of the room, the doorways, the walkways on the walls for the guards. There, on the far end. Another, equally surprising and less welcome figure.   
  
Aiden Price is sitting on the benches, posture perfect like he's conducting an interview. Maybe he is. Because a guard is standing behind him with a hand on his shoulder. Price's head is inclined slightly, listening patiently.   
  
It has to be Alaska. Colorado never worked alone.   
  
Ten years. Ten fucking years and their MO hasn't changed. Wash wonders idly how they'd known to leave. Where they went. Why they waited so long to track down Price. If they knew he was here. If they knew he’d survived.   
  
He starts towards Alaska. It doesn't matter. He's not alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell with me about these fools at ivekilledmonsters on tumblr


End file.
